


to start anew

by cadyjanis



Series: cadnis [10]
Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Apologies, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Crushes, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Making Out, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-10 23:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18670585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadyjanis/pseuds/cadyjanis
Summary: so now that they’re alone together, it’s hitting hard. not to mention they still have to really talk about everything that’s happened. to get it all out in the open so they can say sorry in depth and move on. apologizing to the whole school with a spotlight shining on her was one thing, but doing it sitting across from her best friend is another.and maybe, just maybe, this apology means the most. so it’s the hardest to give.—after spring fling, cady and janis need to talk.





	to start anew

**Author's Note:**

> i really love this one. i hope you do too ♡

Janis almost feels dizzy, watching everything from here. An instinctual wallflower, she’s been lurking in the shadows with a cup of punch for a half hour now, observing this sea of high heels and tuxedos. Damian wandered off in search of food, but hasn’t returned yet, likely having been distracted by a cute boy. More power to him, honestly.

 

She’s not bored, per se, but is kind of disappointed a bucket of blood wasn’t dumped on Regina during the ceremony. She snickers at the visual, then feels bad for finding that funny when just two weeks ago Regina literally was bleeding in the parking lot. Janis looks down into her cup with a sigh, now jarred by the memory.

 

Not that she gives two shits about Regina George, but it was admittedly harrowing to see her like that. It was the first time Janis had ever witnessed something of the sort—not just a girl being hit and severely injured by a bus, but Regina actually appearing human.

 

She’s pulled from her increasingly depressing thoughts when she spots Cady in her peripheral, and looks up as the smaller girl approaches. “Hey,” Janis greets, hating the tentative strain in her voice, how Cady hears it.

 

“Hey,” Cady echoes, pretending she didn’t. She nudges Janis’s elbow with her own, and Janis jabs her back playfully. She wills her heart to slow down, overcome by a weird rush of panic and adrenaline now that her reinstated best friend is so close.

 

They stand there in silence for several minutes, both teetering on the verge of saying something but unsure who should speak first. It isn’t awkward, just tense, and Janis taps her nail against the outside of her cup.

 

Ultimately she’s the one who speaks, almost without realizing it. The words exit her mouth the same moment they form in her jumbled head: “Your speech was really nice.”

 

Cady looks at her, seeming delicately surprised by the compliment. “Oh. Thanks,” she replies, blushing slightly as she scratches the back of her neck. “I dunno. I tried. Everyone accepted my apology, I think,” she muses, and Janis nods in agreement. She hopes so, because it wasn’t all Cady’s fault. Her stomach churns with guilt.

 

“I meant what I said to you,” Cady adds softly, toeing the floor with her sneaker, and Janis is taken aback. She didn’t doubt that Cady was being sincere at all. But Cady is shy, suddenly, like she’s worried that’s exactly how Janis feels. “And, um… Really, if you don’t wanna be friends anymore, I—I understand—”

 

Her voice grows thick, and Janis is quick to put her drink down and grab hold of Cady’s small shoulders to look her in the eye. “Of course I wanna be friends,” Janis insists, emotional in her own controlled way. “I appreciate everything you said. But no, I’m not gonna ditch you. I can’t, really, not when…you know, it just wouldn’t be fair. And I’d miss you.”

 

She drops her hands, abruptly self-conscious, as Cady’s eyes glass over. “You would?”

 

“Yeah.” Janis shrugs. “I know things have been weird lately, but I already do miss you. You’re, like, my only friend who’s a girl. Damian is great, but you’re you.” She taps Cady’s nose to make her not look so doleful, and it works. “My Caddy.”

 

“Please,” Cady coughs, swiping at her eyes. Janis swallows hard, refusing to cry, either. “Well, I miss you a lot. Like, a lot. Would you maybe wanna…get pancakes tomorrow? That can be our fresh start, so to speak.”

 

Janis finishes what’s left in her cup and throws it out, then says, “Why wait til tomorrow?” and Cady tries not to light up too brightly but the relief and joy shines through anyway, and it’s so pure Janis can feel it reflecting on her face. Grinning, she puts her arm around Cady’s neck and Cady hugs her waist, and they walk out of the bustling, noisy gym together.

 

* * *

 

Cady has never been to the Walker Brothers Pancake House, so she trails after Janis and their waitress, glancing around at the wooden walls and stained-glass light fixtures with awe and curiosity. Everything is fascinating to her if she pays attention.

 

Which she hasn’t up until now. It truly feels like someone else was occupying her body for the last several months. Someone who _wouldn’t_ be interested in stained-glass light fixtures.

 

“You okay?” Janis asks when they’re seated, and Cady stops biting her nail long enough to see her take her blazer off, then loosen her sleeves like a guy in a slow-motion cologne commercial. For a moment Cady is utterly speechless.

 

Like, okay. That probably shouldn’t have the effect on her that it does.

 

“Yeah,” she eventually lies, aware of how squeaky she sounds, and shucks off her jacket, too. She wasn’t warm until now.

 

They’re in a cute, quiet corner booth, away from the other, older patrons, and it feels like there’s this bubble around them, keeping everything else out. So Cady is nervous, and she knows it’s because she can’t run or hide from Janis anymore. Or herself.

 

“Some dance,” Janis is commenting as she looks over the menu, chin in her hand. It’s strangely endearing. “Never thought I’d willingly be within touching distance of a Plastic, but there Karen was. A true testament of your power, Caddy.”

 

Cady snorts, hiding behind her menu but trying not to be obvious about it. “Thanks.”

 

Janis peeks over the top at her. “Are you a turtle or something? This isn’t a date, y’know. You don’t have to be awkward.”

 

“Sorry.” Cady lowers her menu sheepishly. “Um. It’s just been a while.”

 

They last went out to eat just before Cady went full Plastic, and even then Damian was there, so Cady didn’t have much time to really think about how good Janis looked. Which is constantly. And Cady is now hyper aware of how undoubtedly attracted she is to Janis. That’s another thing she totally lied to herself about: thinking Janis is hot in a very not platonic way.

 

So now that they’re alone together, it’s hitting hard. Not to mention they still have to really _talk_ about everything that’s happened. To get it all out in the open so they can say sorry in depth and move on. Apologizing to the whole school with a spotlight shining on her was one thing, but doing it sitting across from her best friend is another.

 

And maybe, just maybe, this apology means the most. So it’s the hardest to give.

 

The waitress comes back then to ask if they want to start with drinks, and they both get water. Cady is parched, suddenly.

 

“Karen and Gretchen looked pretty handsy,” Janis remarks out of nowhere after the waitress is gone again and Cady is taking a sip. She nearly spits it out, startled, and Janis giggles like that’s the funniest thing in the world. To her, it probably is.

 

“Huh?” Cady says, blushing for some reason, mopping up the water on her chin and front of her shirt. She can’t currently recall Gretchen and Karen looking suspiciously romantic. Not that it matters to her, of course. They kind of deserve to do whatever they want now that the Plastics as a group are likely going to disband—after tonight, everybody is getting a second chance, and sometimes in order to receive one you have to start fresh. Which is exactly what Cady and Janis are doing right now. Hopefully.

 

“I dunno.” Janis makes a funny face and drinks her water suggestively. “They held hands all night and Karen kept giving Gretchen these looks, like she wanted to jump her bones in the nearest custodian closet. Good for them, honestly. Gay rights.”

 

“Gay fucking rights,” Cady agrees, laughing, and they clink their glasses together.

 

They discuss the other occurrences at the dance tonight, which gradually somehow spirals into Janis explaining a government conspiracy theory, briefly interrupted by the waitress to take their order. Then Janis continues without missing a beat, and Cady understands zilch, but if it means they both can stall, she’d listen to Janis ramble about aliens and assassinations all night. Plus it’s cute how into it Janis gets.

 

“…and _that’s_ why I think aliens will invade in 2020,” she concludes dramatically, shaking her glass to stir the ice. Cady nods like any of that made sense.

 

But she loves her so very much. And right now it feels like it will always pain her for lying to Janis and choosing the Plastics over the art freaks. They’re just kids, and that’s forever.

 

“Janis, I’m sorry,” Cady blurts out, blinking back tears, and Janis’s expression shifts from smug to concerned in a split second.

 

“What? Don’t cry,” she protests, handing Cady a napkin. “What’s wrong?”

 

“You know what,” Cady croaks, and Janis grows somber, waiting for her to collect herself to elaborate. “I’m sorry I turned on you. For everything.”

 

“I know,” Janis murmurs. “You said that during your speech, it’s okay.”

 

“No, it’s not.” Cady shakes her head, biting her lip. “I was a bad friend, and I’m sorry.”

 

“So was I,” Janis admits gently. “You were right, it was my idea. Me and Damian put you up to it. Sure, you might’ve acknowledged it was wrong and still agreed to do it, but… You wanted friends and to fit in. Everybody wants that. I mean, this whole thing was pretty unconventional, but you’re not the only person in the world who’s done sketchy shit to be popular. Or the only person who was being influenced.”

 

“You’re not the reason why Regina got hit by a bus,” Cady reminds her dully.

 

“No, I was,” Janis sighs. “We all were. Yeah, you still did bad things, but I did, too. Damian did. Everyone fucked up, and look what happened to Regina. Metaphorically, you could say it’s our fault, but the bus driver _did_ get fired, so maybe that shouldn’t be on our conscience.”

 

Cady laughs weakly, then reaches across the table to take Janis’s hand. “I know. But everyone hated me for two weeks, not you or Damian.”

 

“That’s because they don’t know the whole story,” Janis says with a shrug. “They don’t know you were our little spy. So, yeah, people hated you, but I’m sure if they knew everything they would’ve given me a hard time about it, too. I’m used to that, but you aren’t. So I’m really sorry you had to carry all that blame. And I’m sorry for kinda using you.”

 

Cady squeezes her fingers, reluctantly letting go when she sees the waitress approaching.

 

Janis’s momentary pout is not lost on her. Her heart skips.

 

“I forgive you,” Cady says quietly as they’re lathering their pancakes in syrup. Janis looks at her sharply, like she wasn’t expecting that.

 

“Oh,” is all she says, unsure how to respond, using her fork to cut a piece.

 

“I do,” Cady insists, desperately needing Janis to know this. “I get why you wanted revenge on Regina. I don’t blame you for that at all. But I made choices, too. Like you said, we all did. But I know why you made yours. And I know you really care about me, because—y’know, you were hurt by what I did. If you didn’t actually see me as your friend, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

 

“Yeah,” Janis agrees softly, and her eyes are so big and dark and gentle.

 

“You are my friend,” Janis assures, bumping her foot to Cady’s under the table. “And yeah, it sucked. But we’re here now, right?”

 

Cady nods eagerly, unable to speak because her mouth is full of pancake.

 

Janis inexplicably smiles a little, tenderness in her eyes as she watches Cady stuff her cheeks like a squirrel to avoid an emotional breakdown. “Really, there’s no one else I’d want to ditch a dance with,” Janis insists, and Cady hums a laugh. “How edgy of us.”

 

“Truly,” Cady agrees. “Friends who ditch dances to get pancakes together stay together.”

 

“Hell yeah, baby,” Janis crows jokingly, and despite the term of endearment not having any sort of romantic value, Cady still almost chokes again.

 

Once she’s recovered, she asks softly, “So, we’re good, Jan?”

 

Janis makes a cute face at Cady’s own new pet name, and nods. “Yeah, Caddy, we’re good.”

 

Cady exhales without realizing she was holding her breath. Now they can both breathe again.

 

* * *

 

Janis drives Cady home. She can see her phone lighting up in her backpack, between the seat and the radio, likely receiving either frantic or drunk texts from Damian.

 

It’s quiet in the cab, but not uncomfortably so. Cady looks out the window at the darkness, nail between her teeth, something she hasn’t done in months because her Plastic self would rather die than mess up a manicure.

 

Despite the curly hair and upgraded designer khakis, Janis still sees Cady. Her friend wasn’t too lost inside herself. Weirdly enough, after their chat tonight, Janis started to feel less lost, too. Like she didn’t know she had to be found until now.

 

She hates corny metaphors, but she’ll allow that one, because of Cady.

 

She gets a pang of disappointment as she parks in front of the Herons’ house. Cady takes a deep breath nervously, probably afraid to face the wrath of her mother for violating house arrest.

 

“Hey.” Janis cuts the engine and puts her hand on Cady’s shoulder, and Cady looks at her, the lights from the house making her eyes look glassy and delicate, and for a moment Janis’s brain is so scrambled she forgets what she was going to say. But then it comes back to her and she tells Cady, “I’m proud of you.”

 

Cady raises her eyebrows, genuinely shocked. “For what?”

 

Janis resists the urge to tuck that one curl behind Cady’s ear, withdrawing her hand before it betrays her. “Do I need a reason?” she teases, trying to pass off the sentiment as a joke, but Cady hears it regardless. “No, but. I am. You should be proud, too.”

 

“Thanks,” Cady murmurs, taken aback but appreciative. There’s this heavy silence that follows, and Janis feels it in her chest, overwhelmed by this feeling of having to _do_ something. Like this night won’t be complete until or unless she or Cady… Well, she’s not sure. And it scares her, the uncertainty. She always knows what to do.

 

“Janis?” Cady’s voice is far away even though they’re maybe two feet apart. Janis can’t move her head, focused on her lap, and Cady puts a hand on her arm. Slowly, she scoots closer until their shoulders are touching, and Cady lays her head down. Janis closes her eyes. It’s so much.

 

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” Cady whispers, moving her hand to take Janis’s, unfurling her fingers to intertwine them.

 

Janis’s heart is practically in her ears. “I could never,” she says raggedly. Cady squeezes, and the pressure rises, and Janis knows what she has to do now.

 

What she’s wanted to do for a long time, possibly even from the very start.

 

“I should go,” Cady sighs as Janis is mulling it over. “Thank you so much. For…everything.”

 

Janis can’t speak, her voice gone, replaced by this tangible need. Cady starts to pull away from her, reluctantly reaching for the passenger side door, though their hands are still linked. Aware this could be the biggest mistake of her life, Janis goes for it, suddenly gripping hard to yank Cady back around. Cady makes a startled sound, cut off by Janis’s mouth on hers, Janis’s other thumb brushing her cheek.

 

It’s a good, solid kiss, albeit short-lived, and they peer at each other through the darkness for a breathless moment after. Then Cady is pushing Janis’s hands away only to scramble onto her lap, grabbing her by the collar of her dress shirt to kiss her again. Janis is so startled by Cady’s boldness she’s frozen in place for a second, but then her hands slip under Cady’s jacket to get a firmer grip on her waist, head spinning and spinning.

 

It’s risky, making out where Cady’s parents could possibly see them, but evidently they’re all about the risks. Cady is a hungry, desperate kisser, nipping Janis’s lip for more, as much as Janis can possibly give. And Janis wants to give her all of it, whatever that entails.

 

They end up horizontal on the seat, Cady’s calves wrapped around Janis’s hips, figuring it out as they go—and as for a first kiss, Janis is pretty pleased with hers. She doesn’t care if they get caught, or what happens after.

 

“You taste like syrup,” Janis gasps, tossing her blazer to the floor and helping Cady remove her jacket. Cady utters a shaky laugh, grabbing Janis’s face to continue, and Janis hopes her fingers leave bruises. She digs her own into Cady’s waist, equal parts possessive and terrified—afraid she will disappear, that this night is just an elaborate dream.

 

But Cady doesn’t poof into a cloud of smoke; she stays where she is, beneath Janis and kissing her like she hopes Janis is real, too. Janis has never felt more real in her entire life.

 

“I love you,” she hears herself moan, kissing the line of Cady’s jaw to give them both a break. “I love you so much. I love you, I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Cady breathes without hesitation, and that’s how Janis knows _this_ is real.

 

There’s a few more chaste kisses as they fall from their shared high, blushing, grinning faces close together in the darkness, and nobody and nothing else exists. Janis doesn’t want it to end, wishing they could go as far as possible right here, right now. Sadly, her truck isn’t all that accommodating, and it’s too soon—but it feels like it can happen, and will.

 

Janis takes Cady with her when she sits up, arm around her, and Cady leans on her. Janis runs her thumb over her lip where Cady bit her, knowing there’ll be a bruise or a welt tomorrow and not giving a single shit. She restrained herself from leaving hickeys or any obvious marks on Cady, since it’s already a miracle her parents haven’t marched out here to pry their daughter out and bring her back inside.

 

“You okay?” Janis asks, dizzy and somehow drunk.

 

“Mhm,” Cady hums, nodding, hand on her stomach like she’s going to throw up. Honestly, it’d be perfectly understandable if she did. Janis is queasy, too.

 

All she can think about is how Cady tastes better than those pancakes. So, there’s that.

 

“Come inside with me,” Cady pleads, reaching for her jacket. “My mom won’t yell at me if I have a friend over. And we can…” She trails off, eyes falling to Janis’s mouth suggestively.

 

Janis doesn’t argue, and they both flatten their hair and fix their shirts before exiting the truck. The cool night air helps clear Janis’s head, enough to focus on not dissolving into nervous giggles the moment she sets foot in the house. She shares an impish look with Cady as Cady unlocks the front door, and inhales one last time before following her inside, feeling more free now than she ever has.

 

So, she exhales. Because they’re going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are fetch ♡


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